


Kid's Show

by kryssyv



Category: Wonder Showzen
Genre: Human AU, I Do, who the fuck makes fanfiction out of this show, wtf is wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryssyv/pseuds/kryssyv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wonder Showzen origin story. Sort of. Human AU. One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kid's Show

**Author's Note:**

> I know! No one really watches this anymore, but I had this adorable idea of making them humanlike and realistic. I tend to do that a lot, but i'm not an artist so the closest thing I can do is write a story about them. I'm also trying out this new writing form. I love details but I know it takes people out of the story.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen 42nd Street empty, and yet he’s strolled along the same sidewalk at all hours. The only difference is sometimes you get personal space, and other times it’s a madhouse of shoving and cursing. It the summer it reminds him of squeezing through a uterus, and although it’s hot and tiring, he always laughs at his own metaphor. 

He worked a 9-5 job for a company on 44th. He’s seen flash mobs and movie shoots, but today is different.   
A good looking man stops him. Well, not exactly stops him, but rather he stands at the edge of the sidewalk, smiling sincerely at Chauncey as he holds out a flyer. 

He freezes in his tracks and turns to him, slowly as if he were in a dreamlike state. 

“Hi, I’m Clarence.” He introduces himself. 

“Yeah?” Chauncey replies defensively, taking the flyer.

“We’re making a TV show and we need a host.” He says, and his voice is innocent and childlike and despite Chauncey’s negativity, it soothes him greatly.

He glances at the stranger who sports a light blue sweater vest and denim jeans. Clarence tilts his head and smiles again, knowing for sure what Chauncey’s response is going to be.

And yet he still walks in the studio, the floor above a bodega in Harlem. He abandons his work for today, and just for today he tells himself. A boy about 5 bumps into him and the first thing that comes out of Chauncey’s mouth is “Oh good Lord it’s a kid’s show.” He cringes on the way to the wardrobe.

He sees Clarence run off to some of the crew, which is made up of five people. There are two giant cameras that look way too outdated, and the space is wide and open and he knows it’s not traditional. He practically throws his briefcase to the side, and a little girl eyes it. He doesn’t care if she colors over the documents.

A young woman with light pink hair brushes it in front of the mirror. He walks up behind her, and she pauses, smirking at him. Her eyes flash at his face and his dirty bright blonde look, and she knows he’s the host. 

He learns her character’s name is called “Sugar”, and they talk for a while. A chubby, older man with down syndrome sits next to them. He doesn’t speak more than a sentence, but he nods his head and smiles at appropriate moments. 

Clarence comes over with an average looking man, and a taller man wearing a red turtleneck sweater and a navy blue scarf. He wore black thick rimmed glasses and constantly pushed them up.

Chauncey doesn’t notice the children playing in a corner across the room until one bursts out in laughter, causing the others to roar up an echo of giggle fits. It vibrates the whole studio nicely.

The director gives him lines, but one of the crew also made cue cards. 

“It’s a kid’s program; you can improvise if it makes sense.” The man says, shrugging, passing Chauncey a script no more than four pages.   
He’s not sure how it hits him. Maybe it is the pleather of bored parents on the side of the wall, texting on their phones and yawning, bored to death as their children cause a racket and recite simple lines, but he goes to the director- Chatman, he thinks his name is and goes “let’s adult it up”. 

They have fun. Older children give a look to their parents, who shrug and wave their hand in an apathetic motion, and soon the studio is filled with tiny voices talking about being snitches and how much god isn’t real. 

What was going to be Clarence’s sketches of cute questions on the street to consenting strangers,- “What is patience? What is personal space?” now becomes a hilarious way to bother innocent commuters trying to get by. 

For a man in his late 20’s, too young to want kids of his own, Chauncey sees his star child, a ginger boy of about 7 named Trevor. He laughs at what the blonde man tells him. He knows what he’s saying is messed up, but he is ever so eager to do it.

Chatman cracks his neck unintentionally. He wants to do something different, and this was new. And although he was going to pitch this show so Nick Jr. and PBS, his brain racks on channels like Comedy Central and MTV. Maybe HBO would like it. 

And the whole day becomes silly and new. They begin to shoot indoor scenes at 4 PM, and so only half of the children stay until then. He wears a common white collar shirt with a black tie, light khakis and converse, but Chatman pulls him aside to place a small but distinguished top hat on his head. Chauncey adores it.

The key was to look as innocent as possible, and he figures they’ve done a great job. They seem like fictional, adorable puppets. And yes, the day is longer than anticipated, but he doesn’t mind walking at night. 

He waves goodbye to Trevor, and by 8:30 he’s on the train home. He rests against the brightly colored seat, noticing a drawing of a yellow furry monster wearing a top hat on his briefcase. He doesn’t bother smudging it away.

He takes a half day of work and goes over to the studio. He helps with the editing, and instead of ignoring he gladly hugs a little girl with pig tails. Everyone enjoys their scenes. They tear up from laughing so hard. Chatman gives Chauncey a firm handshake. 

Within a month he quits his job and works on Kid’s Show. He sits between Clarence and Woodsworth (he insisted on using his last name), and they clunk up witty lines and racist remarks. The children laugh around them, only a tad of them obvious to the jokes. 

They don’t change their personalities. They don’t change their wardrobe. 

They don’t know what to call it. But they call it Wonder Showzen.


End file.
